


Attention

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Spark Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightbeat is late meeting Quark at the bar, and another mech takes advantage to pay Quark a little attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Decepticonsensual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/gifts).



> Tumblr request, this one for Decepticonsensual~ :D
> 
> First time trying flat out spark-sex, no wires. I really like this pairing. Which is probably why this drabble is so long. And last but not least, I depressed myself, b/c re-reading the TFWiki reminded me that **2008 SPOILER** Nightbeat’s dead, and he didn’t die pretty. Which I had forgotten about. *sighs at Transformers*

"Five credits, buddy," the bar tender said.

Quark looked up from his folded hands, twisting the ten credits he held in his hand. “But that’s only half the price.”

"Half price, for half a drink," The bar tender said, setting the said half-filled glass on the table. He leaned on the counter and shook his head. "You and your buddy been coming here for years, and I’ve never seen you drink more than a third a glass. I’m starting to feel bad charging you full price."

"Or wasting the energon, I suppose," Quark said, handing over the five credits in exchange for the drink.

"Nah, I spy your friend finishing yours all the time," the mech chuckled. He smacked his hand against the bar once and shrugged. "So somebody’s drinking it, even if it’s always on your tab. Enjoy."

"Thank you," Quark said.

The proton microscope cupped the tiny glass of warm energon and returned to his seat. He probably should have picked up a drink for Nightbeat as well, but the other mech was running rather late for their get together. No sense in letting something go stale waiting when he had no idea when the other would show. Quark sipped at the glass, and tapped his fingers on the table.  _Where was he?_

 ”Alone today?”

Quark’s hands tightened around his drink. A mech loomed over him, leaning on the back of the bar stool. The stranger twisted to put his hand on the table, boxing Quark into the booth seat. The bulky mech tapped his finger on the table, before sliding into the opposite seat with the grace Quark hadn’t thought possible for someone who likely turned into a piece of construction equipment if the drill on his his head was any indication.

Quark did his best to remain calm. The mech was just being friendly. Folks did that in bars. “My friend seems to be running a bit late.”

"Mind if I keep you company until he shows up?" The mech asked, crossing his yellow arms on the table. They almost clashed with the dim blue body armor, but Quark shouldn’t judge. Not everyone had good taste in paint, and he doubted the mech had much of a choice working underground. The drill smiled, "Name’s Zetar."

"Quark."

The drill chuckled, as if he could sense Quark’s discomfort at his size, occupation, or any other number of political related issues. “Something the matter?”

"Just new at this," Quark admitted, shrinking down a bit. Most folks at Maccadam’s tended to leave him be, same working class or not. "I don’t meet a lot of new people."

"Well that’s a shame," Zetar said. He waved his finger at Quark’s nearly untouched cup. "But at least you’ve got your one friend, what’s his name?"

"Nightbeat," Quark said, tapping his hands on the glass. Zetar was completely fixated on Quark and it was making him nervous. Was he flirting? Or was he one of those Decepticon converts looking for a target. Quark blurted out, "He’s a negotiator for the local police."

"Fancy," Zetar said. He rubbed the back of his finer, and pressed his lips together. Quark clenched his hands around his cup. Zetar sucked in a breath, and tried to smile. "Though, I’m a little more curious about what you do."

"What I do?"

"Yeah," Zetar said. "I’m pretty easy, a drill drills. Nothing new there, but I don’t have the slightest clue about what you do. You’re a microscope, right?"

"That’s correct," Quark said. "A proton one."

"So you look can at stuff at at their base element level?" Zetar smiled, and leaning forward in what Quark suspected was genuine interest in his profession. "That right?"

"Yes," Quark said, hands loosening on the cup. "That’s correct."

"Well, since your friend hasn’t shown yet," Zetar said, glancing around the bar quickly. "Would you mind telling me more? I’d love to know more about you—I mean, your job. Your job."

Quark bit his lip to stop from laughing at the fumble. Flirting. The mech was flirting. A new field for Quark all together, but what was a scientist without new discovery? Besides, Nightbeat  _was_  late. It’d serve him right. “I think I can do that.”

* * *

Nightbeat rubbed the edge of his shoulder joint, fingers massaging the exposed wiring in the space between the plating. Four hours. A jumpy perp with a gun, too many hostages, and one negotiator who’s too far strung out because he doesn’t know the answer to why the miner can’t go into the fair with his friend.

Talking him down by agreeing with him, only to have the poor guy arrested and taken into custody a second later didn’t exactly help Nightbeat’s mood either.

Being late for his meeting with Quark was just the final punch. Nightbeat rubbed the side of his visor as he walked down the emptying streets. Of course, that was assuming Quark was even still there at this time of night. Part of him hoped the scientist went home. He didn’t know what would be worse, Quark sitting there all night waiting, or Quark going home angry for being stood up.

Nightbeat reached the bar, and pushed inside. The lights had dimmed for the shift from day workers to the night crowd. It’d be easy to spot Quark’s white finish in the dark, among all the dull colored construction workers and miners. Nightbeat glanced at the bar first, before turning toward their usual booth and—there he was: Quark.

With a quarter filled glass of energon beside his hand. Nightbeat rubbed his fingers together. Quark wasn’t a heavy drinker. He joked he could hold his own, but his buddy never made it past a quarter cup. He got wasted on half a glass. Nightbeat picked up his pace toward the back of the bar. Quark was probably wasted out of his mind.

Which would explain why he was laughing with an over-sized miner, or why he was allowing the big lug to touch his arm.

"Quark!" Nightbeat said, dropping his hand on the table. He sent a glare toward the stranger, who wisely removed his hand from Quark’s arm. "I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Work ran late on me, and I honestly didn’t expect to still see you here. Now I’m Glad I stopped by to check, before heading to your place."

"I had a feeling work held you up. I didn’t mind waiting since I had company," Quark said, gesturing to the blue and yellow mech. "This is Zetar. He works in the south district of the mines. That’s where I get our lab samples from! Small planet, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, small planet," Nightbeat said. He sat on the edge of the booth seat and nudged Quark. "Make room, would ya? I’m beat."

"No, you’re  _Night_ beat,” Quark said, nearly giggling.

Nightbeat chuckled along as the white scientist scooted over to the end of the seat and pulled his near empty glass with him. He was wasted. Quark had to be wasted. Nightbeat glanced at the other mech behind his visor. Zetar was looking far too interested in Quark. Who knows what would have happened to his scientist if Nightbeat hadn’t shown?

"Oh!" Quark said, looking down at his glass. "You don’t have a drink. I’ll get you one, since you’re so tired."

Quark crawled over Nightbeat, shifting between the table and stool. He tapped up to the bar, and ordered without a care in the world.

"How much has he had?" Nightbeat asked, keeping his voice friendly.

"Not much," Zetar shrugged. The miner leaned back, and looked Nightbeat in the optics. "A quarter of a glass maybe? Stretched out over four hours that isn’t much."

"Just a quarter?"

"He started with a half-glass," Zetar said, pointing to Quark’s cup. "I think he’s just in a good mood."

"Oh?" Nightbeat said, drumming his fingers. "What makes you say that?"

"Mechs tend to get excited when they get to talk about their function in detail for a few hours," Zetar said. His next words held a hint of affection in them, and it made Nightbeat’s spark twist. "Quark’s very enthusiastic."

"He is," Nightbeat answered, calmly.

"Sort of hard to believe he’s not seeing anyone," Zeta said, the two of them watching Quark lean on the bar as he waited for his turn to order. Nightbeat’s hand twitched on the table. "But, lucky for me, right?"

"What makes you say he’s not seeing anyone?" Nightbeat asked.

"He doesn’t seem the type to lead a mech on if he’s taken," Zetar said, smirking slightly. "Or did I misjudge the little scientist?"

Nightbeat put his hands under the table, hiding the fist. If that over-sized drill bit thought the little car wouldn’t take up that challenge he was seriously mistaken.

"Here you are," Quark said, setting two drinks on the table, interrupting what was sure to have been a fight over him. Nightbeat took the glass and nodded at Quark. The idiot just smiled and encouraged him to, "Drink up."

"Thanks," Nightbeat said, taking a gulp from the glass.

Quark settled next to him, and picked up his conversation with Zetar that Nightbeat had interrupted. The negotiator had to use his skills on himself to avoid grabbing Quark and running for the door to get away from that smug manual-class fragger.

* * *

"Well Zetar was nice, don’t you think?" Quark asked, as he and Nightbeat made their way down the empty street. He brushed a bit of dirt from his arm, and smoothed out the white metal.

Nightbeat grunted, “Didn’t think construction was your type.”

"My type?" Quark asked, glancing at Nightbeat through his yellow spectacles. His detective friend was tense, and his shoulders were hunched. There was an uncharacteristic scowl on his face that set Quark to thinking. The Scientist slowed his steps and nudged Nightbeat’s shoulder. "His flirting was fairly harmless, I think."

"So you did notice he was hitting on you," Nightbeat said, watching Quark from the corner of his visor. "I had wondered."

"Most folks aren’t content to listen to someone ramble about their primary function unless they’re interested," Quark said. He stuck his nose up and crossed his arms. "Forgive me for appreciating the attention."

"Do you want attention that sort of attention?" Nightbeat asked, another question in between the words. A question that set Quark’s spark to flutter. _Can **I** give you that sort of attention?_

Quark regarded the negotiator. Nightbeat’s gaze was intense and focused, and so very full of want. Quark wrung his hands together, and looked at the sidewalk. Nightbeat also looked rough, worn, and exhausted. Nothing that Quark could have explained in specific detail, but he knew his friend well. He’d never seen him this…Open.

And over a spout of jealousy.

Quark said, “I figured if you wanted to offer that sort of attention, you would have spoken up earlier.”

Nightbeat, touched the side of his face, his voice rough. “My mistake.”

* * *

Quark’s back arched to press into Nightbeat’s curved torso. They fit together like evidence and a winning case. Nightbeat groaned, clinging to the expanse of white on Quark’s back plating. His other hand was wrapped around the back of Quark’s thigh, pulling him up harder against his torso as Nightbeat bit Quark’s neck.

Nightbeat was impressed he had the self control to back Quark into his room before jumping the slim mech, knocking a stack of evidence he’d brought home from work over in the process.

He’d clean it later.

"Ow," Quark hissed after Nightbeat dropped them both flat on the berth. The scientist rubbed the side of his back, and pouted. It was adorable. "Not so rough!"

"Sorry," Nightbeat chuckled. He moved his hands down, feeling each little dip and panel on the thin plating. "But if you think I’m rough, just picture what that miner fellow would have done to you."

Quark huffed, and kissed Nightbeat on the lips. He licked Nightbeat’s cheek. “For someone who was so jealous you jumped me, you keep bringing him up.”

"Thinking about him fragging you is what made me jealous in the first place," Nightbeat said. He’d thought about it a lot over dinner. With every laugh or chuckle Zetar drew out of Quark, Nightbeat pictured what the miner had planned for later. It drove him mad putting the pieces together. He bit Quark’s lip. "Sort of hard not to dwell on it."

"And here I thought you were going to pay attention to me," Quark said. He tapped his fingers on Nightbeat’s shoulders, and rolled his optics. "But instead you’re fantasizing about some miner plowing me into a berth. Oh, woe."

"You’re an aft," Nightbeat laughed, shoving his face into Quark’s shoulder. He grinned into the scrapes of blue paint covering his white frame. "But you win. It’s all about you right now."

"Finally you see sense," Quark said, wrapping his fingers around the back of Nightbeat’s neck cabling. His thumbs brushed the underside of his chin, and fingers tapped the base of his helm. "It’s about time."

"Sorry I’m late," Nightbeat whispered, holding Quark’s waist. He kissed the center of Quark’s chest. The metal under his lips burned from the heat. "May I still come inside?"

"Yes."

A simple answer for a simple request. Nightbeat let Quark pull his head up for a needy kiss. The clicks of armor rearranging itself to move out of the way were instinctual. They mouths closed together in time with the open space in their chests. The fit was tight, and armor adjusted to seal the two together air tight. Case pressed to case, bodies aligned, their sparks were safe to explore the confined space.

But they both hesitated, their sparks still nestled safely in their housing. A flash of light escaped, lapping at the edges of the spark so near, but the bulk remained in place. Just tasting each other. Waiting.

"Ready?" Nightbeat asked, mumbling into the side of Quark’s face. The yellow spectacles scratched against his cheek. It was a good distraction.

Quark kissed him again, squeezing the back of his neck hard enough to dent the metal. His voice laced with static, “What do you think?”

Their sparks met, drawn together with the force of a planet’s creation. Quark and Nightbeat ceased to be. Their sparks were one for the hour.

* * *

"I’m going to get a refill, you want anything?" Nightbeat asked, pushing out of the booth.

"I’m fine," Quark said, shaking the contents of his half-glass. One of these days Nightbeat would stop asking if Quark wanted more than his usual, but he appreciated the thought all the same. "Be lucky if I finish this."

"Right," Nightbeat laughed, tapping his knuckles to the table.

Quark shook his head as the other left. He crossed his legs and picked up his data pad to catch up on the news.

"Looks like I missed my chance," a voice chuckled behind Quark. "You two looked pretty cozy today. Doesn’t take a genius to see what happened there."

"Zetar," Quark looked over his shoulder at the larger mech. The miner had an amused smirk on his face, but there was something in the corner of his optic that looked disappointed. Quark shrunk in his seat a little, biting the edge of his lip. He  _had_  flirted back yesterday, hadn’t he? Quark licked his lip, and straightened up. Polite. Just be polite. “How are you?”

"Fine," Zetar hit Quark in the arm with a friendly pat. "Though it looks like you’re doing better."

"Sorry?" Quark tried to smile.

"Nah, it’s all good," Zetar said, accepting the apology for what it was. He tapped the back of the booth with his fingers as he nodded at Nightbeat. "He looks good for you."

Quark took a deep drink from his glass and set it on the table. He smiled at Nightbeat, laughing at the bar as he lifted his drink. “I think so, too.”


End file.
